Enough
by MadMar
Summary: Meg Giry tries to heal Erik's heart, but worries that it's not enough. MegxErik. Lerouxbased.


She's been gone for years, now, but the damage Christine Daae has done still pains him. I know that every time I look in Erik's eyes during an argument, he does not see me. He sees her. It sickens me to think that she's inflicted this much pain on the man I love, but it hurts me more to think that he cannot get over her. And until he gets over her, he cannot be happy with me.

I _try_. I try harder than I know she ever did to keep love alive. I kiss him each morning and each night. Even if we've been fighting, I say, "I love you" before I leave for practice. I say it each chance I get. I hold him to me as we sleep. I dance to the rhythm of his beating heart. And it's not enough. I know it's not. I caught him a few nights ago, holding a picture of her, staring sadly into its eyes and moaning her name to it.

"Christine… Christine…"

Oh how I hate her! Her memory haunts him, but he likes the company of a ghost. He keeps her memory around. He won't—or can't—forget. And while he may be accepting of that, I am not. Her memory plagues me! There are nights when I want to be rid of all evidence of her. I want to fling his of her pictures in the fire. I want to shred the pieces he's composed for her. I want to wipe away the tears he's cried over her. I want to kiss him until his soul burns with a passion so strong the flames consume her memory until she reduced to ash. Then I want to sweep the ash into the lake so that it will sink to the bottom and forever be forgotten. But that would only cause him pain. And I cannot bring myself to hurt him.

I did once, you know. It was three years ago, almost exactly. I walked in on him without the mask. I know how he likes his privacy. In fact, he'd told me not to come in the room. I tried to tip-toe out stealthily, but Erik saw me. Like a cat, he pounced on me. His hands were around my neck and shoulders in a flash.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Meg," he seethed. "What do you think it shall do to you? You wanted to see… Oh you women are all alike, prying and squeezing your way in. And then you get so far in and you can't get out. Well, Little Giry, you've seen me now. You are now unable to escape."

I wept bitterly as he spoke his harsh words. He was hurting me and could tell that I'd hurt him. I regretted my actions and I deserved to be admonished. My vision was becoming blurred, but then he shook me so violently that the tears were gone from my eyes.

"You wanted to see. Now look. Bask in your discovery! When Pandora opened her box, she was subject to the consequences… When Eve ate the apple, she possessed knowledge, horrible knowledge for the rest of eternity. I thought you were different. But you're not! You're just like _her_."

The tears were hot on my cheeks and his hands dangerously positioned on my neck, but I wasn't frightened. I was furious.

"Stop it! Stop it this instant, Erik!" I screamed. I don't think he'd ever been screamed at by a woman before. "I am not like her! I'm not Christine!"

He wept then, too. His hands flew from my neck and wrapped around my body. They went from rough to gentle as he held me and sobbed.

"Oh, Meg… My Meg… How could I ever accuse you of…? Oh, I am wretched, wretched man!"

I put his head to my breast and stroked his hair, holding him as a mother would hold a child. I quieted his tears and pressed him to me.

"You are not a wretch, you're Erik. My beautiful Erik whom I love."

That was the first time I said I loved him. I think it may have been the first time anyone had said that to him, the first time he was called beautiful. He looked up at me and his eyes did not show any traces of Christine. They were clear and bright.

I would think that after that day, all traces of Christine would be gone from his eyes. But that is naivety. There are still times when we disagree that he uses that accusatory, hurt tone. I've reminded him that I am not her. And he'll say, "I know, I'm sorry". I forgive him then. But there are times when he tells me I may as well be her and he stalks off before he can see me cry. There have been many nights that I have lay on the rug near the organ and cried myself to sleep. During those nights, when I do dream, I dream of a life without Christine; a life where Erik and I are happily married and are free of pain and anger.

Not to say we _aren't_ happy. Most days we are. Sometimes he plays the organ and I dance to his melodies. Other times, we entertain each other with stories. Usually, we sit together. Sometimes we talk, but not always. And it is enough to be in each other's company. To know that we're not alone in the world. We're like any other couple. We go out, we share our time, we have a house. And we are happy. Mostly.


End file.
